


my faith in this world is a bottle of nothing

by frauleinfunf



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Abuse, Domestic Violence, Drug Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 06:57:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13565250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frauleinfunf/pseuds/frauleinfunf
Summary: Sometimes you take a bottle of vodka to the roof and drink on the ledge, hoping you get too drunk to keep your balance.A look into who the man Alice killed from the last episode might be.





	my faith in this world is a bottle of nothing

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfiction in years, but Wednesday's episode inspired me. Also, inB4 next episode where everything I wrote is probably not gonna be canon. Tbh I'm actually surprised more people aren't writing about who this guy might be.

18

The Sisters give an artificial smile as they hand you a note saying you have to leave by Wednesday. You shove your few possessions in a bag and go.

You find yourself wandering to the address on the note. Their place.

You keep circling the block, stopping every time to study the house. If you don’t leave soon, someone’s gonna call the cops.

As you circle the block one last time, you see two girls playing in the yard. The ones they kept.

You hide behind a bush. You force yourself to look down.

“What’s wrong, Betty?” one of them says.

“Nothing, I just thought I heard something,” says the one named Betty.

Your voice tries to rise, but your tongue pushes it down. She calls them in for lunch.

You run back to your motel room, wind and tears stinging your eyes. When you get there you’re shaky and out of breath and raw and you punch the wall because it makes you feel better. You bandage your hand and get on a bus before the cleaners notice.

You eventually go all the way to Los Angeles. It’s humid and fast and too expensive and your rented room is a shithole and it all makes you feel so alive.

You work in a sinful neighborhood and take absolute pleasure in your measly paycheck. You feel old wounds sting anew when you walk by a cathedral. When your neighbor asks you about church, you smile and say “Oh, I’m an atheist.”

19

You are broke in LA, so you go to Las Vegas. You can afford a slightly better room and some snacks along with your instant ramen. The guy in the next room jerks off to Full House.

You serve up drinks to rich guys who tip terribly in a casino only locals know. You learn how to walk with your back carefully placed away from them. You start clenching your fists so tight you bleed like you did in high school.

Your muscles ache. Sometimes you sway and drop the drinks. Your boss yells and takes it out of your paycheck. One of the chefs sneaks bread to you sometimes.

You drop enough drinks that you can’t make rent for a while, and one day you see a notice on your door.

You beg and beg your landlady. She has too big a heart so she’ll let you stay if you can make this month’s rent.

You become so desperate for tips you start letting customers talk to you. Their smiles are sweet and their words are venomous. It doesn’t scare you anymore.

You don’t warm up to it till you mention to one of your regulars you need a knee brace and he gives you extra money to get one. When you get bronchitis and tell another he puts his appointment on hold and gives you money for the medicine.

Soon you get used to it enough that you tell one you want to go back and finish your GED. He laughs and asks what for. You remember that farm animals don’t need to be smart, just healthy.

Your big glistening pen seems smaller. It hurts more when you sit. The knee brace doesn’t help anymore. You wake up in the middle of the night crying, but you don’t remember what you dreamed. You hide in the bathroom until you stop feeling like you’re gonna die.

You’re serving drinks to a new guy. His name is Dean and he’s got a weird haircut. One look and you know you’re going to be in his room in two hours.

He’s gentler than you’re used to. When you’re done, he gives a wad of green with a little bag of white in the middle.

“Hey, dickweed,” you say, holding up the little bag, “I can’t pay rent with this.”

“I figured you needed it,” he says, dulcet words dripping like oil.

That night you don’t feel your knee but you feel eternity.

Dean quickly becomes your favorite. You start seeing him during the day and taking him home. His love is deep and his crack works fast.

One day, he looks at you like you are the galaxy and says,

“Come back to my place in Miami.”

You’re packed by the afternoon.

20

You didn’t realize how much you missed the beach until you first got to Miami. You love taking morning walks by the sea, watching as the tide laps at your feet but never quite swallows you whole.

You don’t see Dean that much because he often has to travel for his supplies. But you live with him rent-free and get free crack so you don’t complain.

You’re not sure just how much money he has. He never tells you about business and you prefer it that way.

You get lonely. You try to focus on the contraction of the waves. You stare into the horizon.

He was the first one to ever say “I love you” to you. He still says it, but he’s distracted when he does.

You make a friend at Walmart. His name is Will. Dean’s not happy. 

“I told you, we’re not doing anything,” you say.

“How can I know that? You’re alone in this house all time,” he says.

“Who’s fault is that?” you ask.

He grabs your wrists too tight. You scream. He cries and says he loves you.

You’re naked in his arms later night and repeat those words in your head over and over and try to tell yourself you don’t need Will when you have Dean and you almost believe yourself.

You try to tell Will you can’t hang out anymore. He asks why. You tell him it’s none of his business. Will persists. You call him a fucking stalker and threaten to call the cops. You never see Will again.

21

You make friends with your neighbor, Tara. She lives on the 5th floor. Dean doesn’t mind.

Her husband is a nasty drunk. You compare bruises and scars. You watch soap operas together. 

She gives you soup when you forget to eat. You remind her to take her medication. You dress each other’s wounds.

You fight with Dean a lot now. One night you fight about his trips. He cries and you forgive him. 

Dean accidentally gives you a bad batch the next day. You stay with Tara till the high ends and the apartment isn’t a Lovecraftian nightmare anymore.

Tara doesn’t think it was an accident.

“But he’s not mad anymore,” you say.

“He’s doing it because he can,” she says.

You fight and you don’t talk to Tara for a while. You get lonely. You talk to her again.

She doesn’t offer opinions on Dean anymore, but she gives you looks of empathy mixed with pity.

She says you need something you do by yourself. You ask her what she does. She says she’s a cam girl. You’re not sure whether or not she’s joking. Her expression remains the same.

She moves on quickly, suggesting to you stuff like volunteering or bird watching or writing like you did in high school.

Dean doesn’t let you have jobs, but you can volunteer for 2 hours a week at the animal shelter near his main guy’s lab. A pit bull bites you and you need stitches and shots. You try bird watching next.

Bird watching is the most boring thing you’ve ever done. You get headaches from staring into the binoculars so long. You thought you saw an eagle once but it turned out to be a hawk.

You try writing again. You have a story in mind. You pick up a pen. You stare at the page for hours and realize there are no words left in you. You have no tears left to cry.

Out of unadulterated boredom, you start googling cam work. You watch enough videos to pass the night. You’re nervous for the first call. After it ends, you feel more alive than you ever have in Miami. You become a regular on one website. You don’t tell Tara.

One day Tara’s husband comes home early and finds her in the middle of a call. Tara ends up in the ICU.

You stay with Tara till nurses kick you out every day.

Tara starts talking about leaving. She wants you to come with her. You get scared.

22

Tara left and moved in with her sister in Wisconsin. She asks you to come with her. You say no.

For the first few months, Tara tries to call you. You don’t pick up the phone. She stops calling.

Even after what happened to Tara, you still have your webcam. You tell yourself you’re more careful than her.

Dean is nastier than ever now. Whenever you fight and he bruises you, he also takes away the drugs. The first time, you were fine for a few days. Then the withdrawal kicked in. His lips curl like a snake whenever you beg him for forgiveness.

You get milk and the cashier asks about your black eye. You start wearing sunglasses and buy foundation.

The next door neighbor gets nosey. Dean smiles and talks with him in private. The neighbor limps the next day.

Every day, you try to write. Every day, no words come out. Eventually, you give up and just start reading more.

23

You go to the park to punch trees. Your palms are completely covered in scars. Sometimes you take a bottle of vodka to the roof and drink on the ledge, hoping you get too drunk to keep your balance.

You webcam more than ever. Sometimes you cut it way too close to when Dean gets home. You think of stopping, but then someone pants and says they love you.

There’s one who’s your absolute favorite. His name is Trent and he wears Star Trek shirts and likes to talk about Shakespeare. He’s sweet and gentle and never expects too much from you.

He’s getting his Ph.D. in English Literature and he likes roleplaying as Macbeth while you pretend to be Lady Macbeth. You watch the play on PBS because of him.

You start talking to Trent on Whatsapp. You delete every conversation after your done.

“You should come visit me in Berkeley sometime,” he says.

“I don’t have the money,” you lie.

“I’ll give you the money,” he says.

“I don’t have the time, I have a lot of work at my day job,” you lie again.

Dean’s supplier in Tucson got arrested and he has to lay low. The fights are worse than ever and sometimes you can’t hide it from Trent. He’s more insistent than ever that you move to Berkeley. You still refuse.

Dean tries to spend as much time as possible outside the apartment. You spend more time just talking to Trent than getting him off.

Dean never comes home earlier than 6 AM. One night he does. He sees you webcamming with Trent.

He kicks you and knocks you out of your chair. You hear Trent’s shouts as you disconnect the webcam.

He hurts you worse than he ever has. You try to fight him off but he’s stronger. You hear so many cracks.

He tries to get inside you. You scream and bite his arm as he pins you on your stomach. He presses his knee on your back and breaks a lamp over your head. You black out.

You don’t know when you wake up, but he’s gone and light is filtering through the blinds.

Instinct kicks in and you know you have to leave. A thousand knives stab you as you go downstairs and make it out of the building. A good Samaritan stops as you pass out again.

You wake up this time in the ICU. The doctors tell you that you almost died. Some cops talk to you and you tell them you were jumped and couldn’t see the attacker’s face. They ask if you want a rape kit. You say no.

You check out of the hospital as soon as you can. You lay low for a few days, waiting till you know Dean’s car is gone. You go into the apartment and you shove your few possessions into a bag and go.

24

You find yourself in Centerville, a stone’s throw away from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy, and broker than ever. But you at least know Dean doesn’t have any suppliers out here who might see you.

The last time you talked to Trent was a quick message telling him you were okay and you were leaving Florida. You think about moving to Berkeley with him. But now his smile terrifies you.

Sometimes you wish Dean was dead. Sometimes you miss him. Most of the time you want to fuck his shit up for what he did.

The hardest part is being cut off from his supply. You can’t afford any out here. The withdrawal was the worst you’d ever gone through. You try drinking milk whenever you think you need crack, and that helps.

You don’t tell people what happened, but they know, they’ve seen it too many times. They ask you if you’re okay. You say it doesn’t matter.

You’re living off camming now and don’t have enough money to live at a decent boarding house. Instead, you live in one where you pay for rent with your body.

Your landlord, Marcel, isn’t too picky about clients and they’re so much rougher and meaner than the ones in Las Vegas. You take them on with an air of confidence.

25

Your mother and sister come to meet you for the first time. You shout at them till they leave.

Later that night, Marcel gives you a guy that looks too much like Dean. You refuse him. Marcel pins you to the wall and stabs you in the arm.

Marcel screams in pain and lets go, cradling his face. You turn around. You see your sister holding a can of pepper spray.  
You tell her to go, that you can’t go to the hospital because you don’t have insurance. She pushes you into her car and takes you to their house. They patch you up and put you to bed in your other sister’s room.

Your father is Hal. He’s tall and quiet and stabs looks into your back when you go upstairs.

Your mother is Alice. She’s blonde and graceful and smiles and grips too tightly when she hands you a food dish you didn’t ask for.

Your sister is Betty. She’s young and eager and looks at you like your her last hope for rescue in the middle of the ocean.

You ask about your other sister, Polly. No one wants to talk about her.

Betty digs her nails into her palms too. She’s a you that can still turn out okay. She asks you to show her how to be a camgirl. You tell yourself you’re just answering her questions, and what she does with that information is her choice.

Hal hates you enough to leave, so you know your days as a stranger in a strange house are numbered. Alice seems nonchalant, saying he’ll be back soon enough once his hissy fit is over. You’d never be able to think that if you were in her position.

One night, you’re eating dinner with Alice. Betty’s apparently out solving some mystery. The doorbell rings and Alice is confident it’s Hal, who’s over his “I Hate Chic” phase.

She opens and that voice that’s sweet and drips like oil, whose owner’s mouth curls like a snake, says “Hi. Is Chic home?”


End file.
